


For I am a Child, Yet Not

by Rin_the_Shadow



Category: Dororo (Anime 2019), Dororo (Stage Play)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Suicide, Character Study, Demon Battles, Emotionally and Morally Conflicted Tahomaru, Gen, Introspection, Siblings, at least that's what taho thinks he's doing, attempted mercy kill, currently canon compliant but who knows what i may do later, discussion of infantilization, infantilization, possible internalized ableism, references to puberty, who very definitely needs a hug, written in present-tense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26297743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rin_the_Shadow/pseuds/Rin_the_Shadow
Summary: At times, it feels like there are two different sets of expectations, and Tahomaru is never certain of which ones he should be following, like being trapped between two worlds, but not fully at home in either.
Relationships: Hyakkimaru & Tahomaru (Dororo)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

At times he feels like he’s still a child. And in those moments, the only thing he can think of is the sheer unfairness of it all. Because he’s never really felt like a child even when he _was_ one, so how can he still be something he never was?

Worse, there’s no real reason for it. He’s always grown up with plenty of food and resources. He had playmates, he’s pretty sure, and even if that wasn’t true, he’s always been perfectly capable of playing by himself. It isn’t like he’s lost any opportunities, either. Any training his father wouldn’t give him, he had been perfectly capable of seeking and obtaining for himself without great risk or cost. So it isn’t like something happened that forced him to grow up.

In fact, if not for that feeling that he was _never_ really a child, it would almost make more sense to feel like he is perpetually stuck as one. Despite his training, his father refuses to allow him to see battle, and his mother refuses to oppose the decision. And neither will give him an explanation, as if he’s too stupid or immature to understand them, and trying to demand reasons only seems to prove their point.

At times, he almost wants to scream. If he really is still a child, why is he stuck in a body with too-long limbs and too deep of a voice, that sweats too much and feels too strongly? How come he’s stuck with sleeves that catch on everything unless he ties them back? (Which, of course, he isn’t allowed to do unless he’s doing something where they deem it appropriate and necessary, and when he thinks he needs it, he’s almost always wrong.)

But if he’s _not_ a child, why do the adults skirt around him when he asks questions? (Why does he have to _drug people_ to get any answers?) Why does his mother still wince during his training sessions, as if it will actually matter to her if he _does_ get hurt, and look away if he brings something he’s hunted and wants to cook?

 _Just what do any of you want from me?_ He wishes he could grab someone and shake them until they answer that question. But he knows they never will. Even if he drugs someone, he knows he’ll never get that answer.

When he first encounters the boy with the swords in his arms, his first feeling is envy. Why should he be allowed to go off on his own and hunt demons whenever he wants? Why is he allowed to have two swords and carry a third? Why does he get to cut his sleeves shorter? He doesn’t look _that_ much older than him, and with how little he talks, he might even be younger.

But he jumps into the fray with him, and they cut through the swarms of demons. And suddenly, his lack of speech is a relief. He doesn’t ask if he should be using that sword or if he understands anything of how to deal with demons, whatever politics a demon might have. He doesn’t scold him for tying back his sleeves (even though he’s pretty sure this is one of the times he _would_ be allowed, and if it isn’t, it should be). And, of course, he knows how ridiculous it would be if he _did_ because he’s only a year or two older (or younger, he really hopes younger) and besides that, it isn’t like he’s someone from his clan or anyone else who should be telling him what to do.

But still, it is a relief when he doesn’t.

Beyond relief, there is something about fighting alongside this person which almost feels…right. The first right decision he’s made that he doesn’t question even as he’s acting on it. But more than that, that this is someone who should have been part of his life long before. Perhaps it’s just the child in him latching onto anyone who could have been his playmate, who he could have trained with and hunted with and whatever other things a child is supposed to do.

Or perhaps it’s the boy who was never a child latching onto the first person who has even the smallest chance of being the same thing he is.

But maybe it’s something even simpler than that. It may be only the other boy’s experience somehow letting him adapt to the gaps in his own ability (even though he hates to acknowledge that they exist), making him seem like someone familiar when he really isn’t. It’s only confusing him because someone he doesn’t know shouldn’t be able to fight as if he knows him.

He’s only tricking himself because he doesn’t understand things and doesn’t know any better. So he’s just making the situation what he wants regardless of the reality in front of him.

Yet when this person blocks an attack above and behind him, he finds himself telling him, “Somehow I don’t think you’re a stranger.”

When the other boy doesn’t tell him no, be reasonable, he could almost cry with relief. Almost. That would almost certainly require the removal of the demons around him first, and even then, he isn’t sure he could manage it.

Once they’ve beaten back the last of them, he’ll have to ask where he knows him from, if perhaps they really _have_ met before.

Or perhaps… The answer is so obvious he doesn’t know why he’s failed to see it before. “Are you—?”

When his father shows up before he’s even finished the question, he almost wants to scream, and yet he obediently falls silent. It isn’t even as though he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be, not when neither of his parents knew what he was doing and thus neither could have told him not to. What he _was_ told was that he couldn’t fight in battle. Nothing was ever said about investigating the situation around the statue in his mother’s room or the baby that disappeared before he was born, and no one has ever said anything about fighting demons. Besides, it isn’t as though he went charging into it on his own, and he knows the other boy could testify that he didn’t join until after he saw that he was already fighting.

But he knows better than to say any of this out loud.

In an instant, his father confirms the question he never got to ask. This boy _is_ the same one his parents sacrificed. He almost wishes he could have time to be annoyed that this means he’s older, not younger. But even as his brother studies their father, he screams out and orders his death.

 _It isn’t fair!_ he wants to scream, and it isn’t just because it’s so many against one. In that regard, it actually seems his brother does fairly well. At least until he takes a hit across the back, and barely avoids what would have been a fatal stab wound even before he can get up.

From that point, something in his brother shifts, and he starts fighting differently. He isn’t sure if he was striking to kill before, but the blood on his swords makes it obvious what’s happening now. Where he was silent before, now he screams as Tahomaru has so often felt the need to, and he already misses that silence even though he hasn’t known him long enough to.

There is something that must be done, and he knows he _should_ interfere and yet he finds himself frozen to the spot, unable to lift his sword, unable to give any orders. Unable even to plead with them or ask his father why, as if he is a child who has never even seen his parents _argue_ before, even though he knows he has.

He knows he _should_ do something, and yet all he can do is stand and gawk, even as he hears the shouts to retreat, until someone grabs him by the hand and physically pulls him away from the scene.

He wants to scream that he’s not a child, but in that moment, he cannot feel like anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My second fic to take place within stage play continuity, rather than simply borrowing elements from it. I've been very interested in using the stage play versions of the characters for awhile, but in this case, Tahomaru jumped out to me because, much like Jukai, his arc has many of the same beats in the play and anime, but there are certain details that radically change it at the same time. Stage play Tahomaru is a lot more isolated compared to his anime counterpart, who at least has Hyogo and Mutsu in his corner. As such, some of the things that were split between them in the anime are Tahomaru acting in isolation in the play. At times I think that stage play Tahomaru is a Tahomaru who makes the choices he does because he feels like he has no other options.
> 
> Additionally, he's portrayed by one of the tallest actors in the stage play, and his sleeves catch on things to enough of a point that fixing them is almost a character tic for him, which is where I got some of the stuff in this fic from.
> 
> But the thing that finally pushed me to write this fic was a conversation in the oft mentioned Dororo Discord in which it was stated that Stage Taho has no chill and no indoor voice. Which is true, but which also got me thinking about some observations I've had over the times I've watched the play.
> 
> At the moment, I'll admit I am not entirely sure of what I want to do and where I want to go with this fic. I'm not sure yet if it will become a multi-chapter work, a three-shot from the perspectives of three different characters, or a series with multiple installments. I am also uncertain at this point just how canon-compliant I want to be, but given my track record I will probably break canon at some point regardless of whether I initially set out to do so. Nevertheless, I am excited to continue in my explorations of the stage play versions of these characters.
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think!  
> ~Rin


	2. Chapter 2

He hears the report that the “demon child” escaped, and he schools his expression so his father does not see his relief. Some old blind monk with a biwa rescued him just at the moment when they thought they’d worn him down. He’s almost certain that is an exaggeration, because he’s seen his brother fight, if only briefly. His previous fights were against demons, and he’s almost certain a demon is a more strenuous opponent than a mere human.

But he knows this isn’t what he’s supposed to think. If there is a danger to their land, he should want it to be eliminated. Does this still apply when the threat is his own older brother? He doesn’t know who he should talk to in order to find that out. (And even then, he already knows the answer he wants, so why shouldn’t he act on it? Isn’t that what everyone else does?)

Still, there is one alternative he can think of, which doesn’t end in that boy’s death or in anyone becoming a traitor to the domain. It’s impossible, and he knows it’s impossible, but wouldn’t it be nice if this could all turn out to be nothing but a misunderstanding?

His father certainly seems to think that boy is the same, but it could be a misidentification, couldn’t it? After all, the baby sacrificed was almost entirely eaten, while the person who fought with him clearly has at least ears, a voice, skin…

Even before he goes and finds his mother, he knows that’s too much to hope for, and when he describes the baby to her, she only confirms it. As he watches her eyes glaze over, as she tells him how she let that baby, sixteen years ago, float down the river, every time she has looked right through him suddenly makes sense. For the first time, he almost hates that he has a brother. Would he have wanted one before, if he had known this is how it would be to have one?

And yet something burns inside him, that same searing unfairness that makes him want to scream. This time, it isn’t for him, but for that brother he almost hates.

“ _And you call yourselves parents?_ ” This time, he doesn’t quiet himself.

“It’s precisely _because_ we are parents that we made this choice.” Of course his father would know he would be here. Why would he ever expect anything to go any differently?

His father tells him of the famines, the epidemics, the droughts that plagued this land, one after another, the repeated attacks from other clans that persisted up until he’d sacrificed his own child, when his deal with the demons made the land prosper. Things he has no way of arguing with, which he wasn’t alive to see and which he can only plead silently for his mother to confirm or deny. But she no longer even looks at him. (At least now he understands why.)

“Still,” he insists, “why did you try to have him killed? You didn’t do it for the people, you did it for yourself!”

“A lord’s ambitions are his people’s ambitions!” his father returns. “And for them, I sacrificed my own flesh and blood!”

There’s something wild in his eyes, which he knows he can’t fight, not when his head is spinning too much to understand what’s even being said, and maybe not even if he _could_ have understood any of it.

“He’s still my brother!” The reason sounds weak even in his own ears, but it’s the only one he has left.

“And will you sacrifice this land for that brother?” For the first time, it occurs to him that his height is almost equal to his father’s, however little that helps him now. “Will you send our people back into hell just so _you_ can remain innocent?”

As if he hasn’t manipulated and drugged for the answers he’s wanted. As if he’s still some little child playing with pretend swords.

“If you’re willing, then you go to the Hall of Hell, and you break my deal with the demons.”

He doesn’t even realize that his fists have been pried from his father’s clothing until he has already left the room, and Tahomaru feels his knees give out.

In that moment, more than anything, more than he can ever remember feeling this before, he wants his mother. But even now, even if he could make his voice work for him, he knows he can’t call out for her and expect any response.

Some part of him recalls her fussing over him, smoothing out his clothing and fixing his hair after one of his practices, and he desperately clings to the hope that it wasn’t a dream.

When his father tells him this will be his first battle, he cannot even bring himself to be pleased about this reversal. After the day he’s had before, it only feels like a platitude, like giving a toy to a child to shut it up, or keep it from looking at something its parents don’t want it to see. As if a toy would make a child forget his house has just burned down in front of him.

He hadn’t been able to bring himself to enter the Hall of Hell. He can’t bring himself to bear the weight of a deal he never made on his own head. And right now, he only hopes that he will not meet his brother in battle today. That the old blind monk has taken him somewhere far away, safe, and where he will never meet anyone who knows anything about the deal his father made with him.

Naturally, this isn’t the way it happens. And why should it be? His brother knows there’s a demon here, and either does not know or does not care about the cost of killing it. Some part of him wonders, why should he? When he’s never had any part of this land and never had anyone to explain to him why he has to be responsible for it. (Another part asks why he should be responsible for what the earth and the winds and the rains do.) If there was any chance of making him understand, it was probably lost long before they met.

He wishes he could encounter that old blind monk first. If his brother knows him, maybe _he_ could make him understand. But the monk is nowhere to be found and his father is already ordering the next attack.

It isn’t a choice anyone should have to make. It would be better if that old blind monk would just take him somewhere that his father will never find him and where he won’t meet any demons.

He understands why his brother needs to keep his end of the deal. Even if he hates his father’s method of ensuring it. But he can’t sit there and watch as his brother is hunted down and slaughtered as if he’s some kind of animal, yet he knows if he does nothing, this is what will happen.

What other choice does he have?

“Brother!” he somehow manages to call above the crowd. Even more surprising is that they actually stop.

This time, his sleeves are not tied back. He dismounts his horse so that he can speak to his brother directly. This is his decision. It is between him, and his father, and his brother. No one else needs to know about it. No one else needs to know why. He will make his point, and end this quickly. With any luck, _he_ will also…

It was wrong for their father to do what he did. He makes that much clear from the start. He still doesn’t agree with the feeding of Hyakkimaru to the demons even now. But still, he understands the need for that sacrifice to allow this land and its people to survive. If he cannot understand that, then as far as anyone is concerned, _he_ is the one who’s a demon.

And therefore, he will do what he must.

There’s a child with Hyakkimaru that he hadn’t noticed before, who intercedes on his behalf as best a child can. But he is easily ignored and pushed aside. It’s almost surprising how easy it is.

When his brother attacks, he is ready. And almost immediately, he knows he is outmatched. Even with his leg all splintered and held together with bandages, he is still outmatched.

Why should he have ever expected otherwise?

Hyakkimaru is up and down, moving all around him and behind him, constantly forcing him to turn and shift just to keep up. His own longer reach should at least give him some advantage, and yet it almost feels like it only allows him to come closer.

When he draws blood on him, and Tahomaru draws blood in return, it becomes clear he is no longer fighting to kill. And that almost angers him more. If he won’t kill him, then he must understand why _he_ needs to die, why if he is not the one to kill him, it will be their father and his soldiers. Why that will be worse.

And yet he won’t allow the easier option.

All the while, that kid is darting between them, forcing both to miss, protesting that it isn’t fair, begging to know why his brother can’t be allowed to live his life. As if they don’t all know damn well why he can’t. He’s not about to waste his time arguing with a child.

There’s a shout of warning and then a distorted snarl, a bright light as a demon is suddenly upon them and of _course_ his brother decides this will be his target. As much as he hates to use this strategy, it _is_ what forced him to rely on that monk earlier.

But something has shifted again. As he grapples with the demon on one side and Tahomaru on the other, the difference in their abilities is suddenly, _painfully_ clear. Hyakkimaru gives him no time to recover before his sword slashes across his eye, and he can focus on nothing but that pain.

So this is how he’s going to die. He supposes he shouldn’t be too surprised it would be something like this.

He doesn’t see whether or not Hyakkimaru starts the finishing blow, but he hears a woman’s cry and almost thinks he recognizes it.

Suddenly, he feels his mother’s hands over him, shielding him. But that isn’t possible. She wouldn’t be here for him.

“Mother?!” he calls out almost in spite of himself.

“Mo…ther?” He hears a small, cracked voice feeling out the same word.

What he hears is almost an echo of his own words, but instead of the act itself, she focuses on his resentment, at how betrayed he must feel that they devour him like demons to sustain their own lives. That the only thing she can do is to hope that he will forgive them.

Of course, she speaks only to his brother. And yet she never leaves his side.

“I cannot save you,” she says, and Tahomaru wants to grab hold of her and keep her from standing. But if he does, he’s almost certain he will bleed out.

“I cannot save you, but I won’t let you be the only sacrifice.”

She stands and calls out to the demons, and suddenly, it seems she is lord of this domain instead of his father. If the demons must have more blood, then they can take hers. In an instant, she has made the offer that his father would not and he could not.

Almost too late, he realizes his brother is beside him, frozen to the spot just the same as he is.

And then the knife drops and he screams. He doesn’t see what happens to his brother, or the demon, or the soldiers. For a moment, he almost forgets about the pain in his eye as he runs to his mother, pulling her to him, trying desperately to stop her bleeding as his own heartbeat deafens him. He feels himself rocking and tries to still it. He is _not_ a child.

He is not a child, because if he is, then his mother is going to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For awhile after I wrote this chapter, I had debated whether it should be within the same fic as this one, or a separate one-shot. But ultimately, I decided to put it with this one because I had conceptualized it as part of the same story. I don't know precisely where it will end yet, if it will remain canon-compliant, or if I will create a point of divergence (I'm leaning towards "missing scene" that could lead to a canon divergence in the future), but I do expect this one to conclude with about three chapters.
> 
> Currently, I am not using chapter titles because I see this as all one event, but I may think of some later.
> 
> And of course, as with everything else in this fic, Nui's portrayal is directly and primarily influenced by the stage play, where she does go to Tahomaru on the battlefield, and where her offer to the demons is much less a request and much more her telling them what they're going to do. (Of course, they don't because they're demons, but still.) The memory of her fixing his clothes and hair after practice is something that happens onstage, but I'm not sure if Tahomaru in that scene is fully aware of it.
> 
> In any event, please let me know what you think!  
> ~Rin


End file.
